Questions and Answers at 221B
by uzumaki misaki
Summary: He knew that it had all been worth it, but could he really go back? Would he be welcome? Just a look into Sherlock's thoughts as he returns to 221B Baker Street. Starting in ch. 2: John's reactions when the detective returns, 3 years after his supposed suicide.
1. Chapter 1: Can I come home?

AN: This is just a little reunion 221-word drabble I wrote—my first uploaded fanfic—in honor of Sherlock Holmes Week 2012. I hope you enjoy. If there's interest, I'll try to write more, but as of now, it's complete.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock and John sigh for this version belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, and the BBC. (And of course ACD himself). This is purely for fun and not for profit.

That said, enjoy!

Questions and an Answer at 221B

Sherlock hesitated for a moment in front of 221 Baker Street. At this moment, a multitude of questions ran through his head. _Could he do this? Would John accept him? Could life at 221 B Baker Street be as it was before the Fall?_ So many questions and only two possible answers, the hoped for yes, or the dreaded no. He knew that there was a good chance that it could be either answer. After all, it had been three years. Three years that as far as John was concerned, he was dead. Three years that they had both been dying inside. Had it all been worth it? Now that question was easy to answer. Yes, of course it had been worth it. John. Mrs. Hudson. Lestrade. Yes, it had all been worth it. But would John really welcome him back into his life? There was only one way to find out; he had to open the door and find out. To Sherlock, a moment seemed like an eternity. But as he opened the door and came face to face with his friend-his only friend-he saw the answers in his eyes. In the tears that began to stream down both of their faces. There was only one answer. And it was it would always be between John and Sherlock. **Yes**.


	2. Chapter 2: Why?

Chapter 2: Why?

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock and John -_- for this version belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, and the BBC. (And of course ACD himself). Also I don't own John 15:13 CEVU*.

"Sherlock."

"John."

The two friends stood there, just staring, each drinking in the sight of their flatmate. Flatmate. What a simple word. To John and Sherlock though, the single word held many meanings. Colleagues. Companions. Brothers-in-arms. Friends.

Beyond that first word, John stood in the doorway speechless, in a state of pure disbelief. Sherlock stood silently as well, but in nervousness and anticipation. The silence was broken not by a genius deduction, but by a whispered question.

"Why?" John whispered, tears streaking his face.

"Why what John?" was the detective's reply.

"You know what I want to know Sherlock. Why did you leave? I'm not going to stand here like an idiot and act like you are a ghost," the doctor paused, trying to not to burst into sobs. "I know now that you faked your death. 'A magic trick' you said. I didn't understand then, but I do now. But what I want to know is this. Why did you fake your death? Why did you leave us? Leave me?"

"Love, John. I did it for love," Sherlock stated softly.

"But we're not—" John began.

"I know. That's not what I meant. You should know the Good Book better than I. "The greatest way to show love for friends is to die for them*."

At that, they both smiled.

AN: The comment about John knowing the Bible and Sherlock quoting it is not meant to be offensive. Sherlock is making a statement about why he faked his death.


	3. Chapter 3: Can you ever forgive me?

Chapter 3: Can you ever forgive me?

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock and John -_- for this version belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, and the BBC. (And of course ACD himself).

AN: Okay, I should either be sleeping or doing homework right now, but this story just wouldn't let me go. Thanks goes to cnnoujaim for her review of chapter 1 and asking me to continue this, and to Ella-Moriarty for giving me some suggestions for this chapter. I'm glad you like the story ladies. Now, without further ado...

John stepped aside, allowing Sherlock to enter the building. As they ascended the stairs to 221-B, a multitude of thoughts flew through the doctor's head. _No greater love...friends...die_. And at that last word, the smile dropped from his face. He turned to face Sherlock who was now standing at the window, looking out at Baker Street.

"But Sherlock, you're not dead."

"Of course not John, don't be so dull. You said so yourself, it was just a magic trick."

"But that quote you just said to me, about showing your love by dying for your friends...you just don't get it do you?" John sighed and made his way to the kitchen to get some tea.

"You asked me why I did it and I told you. What more do you want from me? I thought you understood." Sherlock paced as he talked, not noticing John's expression as he stood stock still, his head bowed and his fists clenching.

"Sherlock."

"Yes, John."

"The verse—it doesn't work that way. That passage from the Bible is talking about actual death, not faking it for some harebrained scheme. So, that begs the question. Do you _really_ care about me?"

"You're my closest friend John; of course I care. I'm sorry for leaving you John, for hurting you. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Someday, Sherlock."


	4. Chapter 4: What now?

Chapter 4: What now?

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock and John -_- for this version belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, and the BBC. (And of course ACD himself).

"Someday, I will be able to forgive you," John spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, but he knew that Sherlock could hear him. "But today is not that day."

"John, I..." Sherlock began but then stopped as he looked up at John. "I understand, but I want you to know why I did it. I want you to understand my reasons."

"Let me guess—I know you don't think much of my attempt at deducing things, but this much I can figure out since you already mentioned it. You "died" so I wouldn't, is that it?" John asked, finally getting himself together enough to look Sherlock in the eye. "Was my life in danger?"

"Yes, for once you got it right in one John," the detective answered. "I'm glad to see you've been paying attention."

"Thanks for that, but something tells me there's more. You said _friends_ earlier. What aren't you telling me? You told me once that you didn't have _friends_, that you only had one—me. So go on, spill it."

"Snipers, John. Moriarty had snipers trained on you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. Simply put, if I died, the three of you wouldn't."

"Well, that does explain some things...but Sherlock, three years?" John grimaced. "So what now Sherlock? Where do we go from here?"

"Live, John. We both live."

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you think. Sorry to say but there's only one more chapter to go. It should be out in another day or two.


	5. Chapter 5: Epilogue

Epilogue: Can't we go back to the way we were?

AN: Well, this is it folks, the last chapter, and well, it seems that I just couldn't stick to the 221B format anymore. So, I made it an epilogue, a really **long** epilogue. Thank you so much for reading it and I hope you enjoyed my visit to 221B.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock and John -_- for this version belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, and the BBC. (And of course ACD himself).

"Sherlock." John paused, as his many emotions threatened to overwhelm him in that moment. He closed his eyes, trying to will away his pain, frustration, anger, and disbelief. He wanted to be happy, he really did, but he couldn't.

"John."

"No, Sherlock, let me speak. If I don't say this now, I'll never say it. You broke me Sherlock. You broke my heart."

"But John, you said we—"

"I don't mean _romantically_. Goodness knows you don't have a romantic bone in your body. But that's beside the point. We have never just been flatmates. Our friendship is well...it's just us. I'm not going to psychoanalyze it. Ever since we met, you have become an integral part of my life. After you died, no, after you left, I fell apart."

"John, I—"

"Sherlock, for once in your life, stop talking and listen to me, this is important." At his words, Sherlock knew that this was Captain John H. Watson he was talking to, not John, the pushover.

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, your _death_ was hard on me and for months I couldn't cope. I was so far gone that after the funeral, I talked to your headstone, as if you could hear me. I begged you for one more-" John paused and looked up at Sherlock. He was surprised to see him standing in front of him, holding a cup of the forgotten tea. The look on the detective's face answered the mental questioned that had caused him to pause.

"You were there weren't you? You heard me ask for one more..."

"Miracle. Yes, I was there, and it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do."

"What, pretending you were dead?" John spat as he took the tea and went to sit in his chair, uncaring of whether Sherlock followed him or not. Taking a sip of the English Breakfast that he loved so much, he stopped to consider this latest revelation. So intent was he on enjoying the hot liquid, that he almost didn't hear Sherlock's answer to his question.

"No, John. It was hard to stand there and watch you cry over me, knowing that I could do nothing. It broke my heart to do that to you, for like you said I am apart of you, you are apart of me. Moriarty knew it, in fact, he spelled it out that night at the pool. You are my heart John. Before you, I never had a need for friends. You, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, you've all made a permanent spot for yourselves in my life. I couldn't even delete you from my mind palace if I tried." Seeing John wanting to respond to that, shocked that the self-proclaimed sociopath had actually given in to _sentiment_, he hurriedly continued.

"I would rather see you all alive and mourning me, than be the one seeing you all dead because of me. That's why I did it John. You've all made me...care."

"Sherlock...well, I suppose I have to say thank you. So, _thank you_, and appreciate what you've done, but still, it's been three years. Three years with nothing from you, not even a hint from Mycroft. Things have changed Sherlock, I've changed."

"Well, you've gotten older sure, but can't we go back to our lives now? Moriarty's dead. His henchmen have been taken into custody. We can get back to work. We can—"

"No, Sherlock, we can't."

"What? What do you mean John? Can't we go back to the way we were? Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson?"

"No, Sherlock. Life goes on and we can never go back."

It was only at those words that Sherlock permitted himself to look, to really _look_ at the apartment. All of his things were there, strangely free of dust, but all of John's things were gone. _No, not gone_. He deduced. John's things were in several boxes piled next to the door.

"You're leaving Baker Street."

"Ah, you've finally noticed. Yes, Sherlock, I'm leaving. Like I said, things change, _I changed_."

"But where John? Why?"

"Because I grieved my lost friend for two years before I started to heal."

"How...no, who?"

"My fiancé, Mary. She got me to start going to church again, and well, I've been doing much better the last year. We're getting married next week. And anyways, I've been out of the crime-solving business for three years now. I've had enough of the battlefield and I'm ready to just be a doctor."

"I see, well then, who is standing up for you at the ceremony?" Sherlock was conflicted. He didn't want to lose his best friend, but if there was one thing he had learned from John, it was that he couldn't be selfish.

"I had asked Greg Lestrade to be my best man, but I suppose I could have two...would you?" After all they had been through, John knew that Sherlock would always be important to him, and to have him stand at his side at his wedding, well, it would be a good start.

"Are you asking me to stand up for you?" Sherlock, for once, was surprised.

"Yes, that's what I'm asking. So what do you say?"

As when they first locked eyes on each other, an hour before, there was only one answer to this question, and it was clear as day.

"**Yes.**"


End file.
